Afterburner Fire
by Shade Embry
Summary: There are epilogue fanfics for Eugene, Irene, Jerome ... but what about Lamar?
1. Afterburner Fire

TITLE: Afterburner Fire  
  
AUTHOR: Brittany "Thespis" Frederick  
  
E-MAIL: baltimorelt@yahoo.com  
  
CATEGORY: Coda, Vignette  
  
RATING: PG, just to be safe about it  
  
SUMMARY: As Jerome launches for the skies, Lamar catches the sparks from the blast.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: An epilogue to the film, almost a conversational "what if?" (I spent some time dissecting what might have happened to Lamar, and what I might say if I met him, and the two kind of came together.)  
  
If you didn't guess, I like Xander Berkeley. ;)  
  
RECOMMENDED LISTENING: "I'll Be" by Edwin McCain  
  
  
  
I'd worked at Gattaca most of my life, always in the medical section, but never expected to go anywhere. Nor did I ever expect a promotion. Then I was promoted to assistant staff medical officer one week after Jerome Morrow, Navigator First Class, launched for Titan. I remember that because it was one of the reasons I was promoted in the first place.  
  
My head was one-part medicine, one-part analysis and strategy; I had workable expertise in both Navigation and Administration but not strong enough an aptitude to go far in one division or the other. So I spent my time working to keep the medical section in order until the acting Director reassigned me to assist Dr. Lamar.  
  
Apparently Lamar had not been quite the same since Jerome had launched. The two had been in frequent contact and had forged a reliable relationship, and like Jerome's associate Irene Cassini, who was in a state of despondency herself, the good doctor wasn't himself. My unofficial job, I was told, was to get him back in good spirits. "What do I look like," I'd quipped, "a morale officer?"  
  
"Miss Christiansen," the acting Director had told me, "it doesn't really matter what you look like."  
  
True enough. Like I had a choice about it, anyway?  
  
I walked into the lab as usual that morning, prepared to run another series of random laboratory scans. Gattaca had cracked down on borrowed ladders and In-Valids since the murder of the Mission Director even though Director Josef had confessed. Lamar was already there, and I often wondered if he ever left.  
  
"Morning, Lamar," I said semi-cheerily as I entered. All part of the unofficial task, though I had always been a horrible actress. But they couldn't say I wasn't trying.  
  
He didn't answer and as I crossed over to the sink beside him at the counter space to wash up, I glared at the back of his head.  
  
"You know, a 'Good morning, Dana' might be nice," I pointed out.  
  
"Good morning, Dana," he replied, still not looking at me, busy with preparations and supplies, needles and syringes, cups and containers. It was as if he wanted to be focused anywhere but on another human being. Specifically, anywhere but on me.  
  
"Which battery are we doing this morning?" I said nonchalantly, once again brushing off the wave of irritation that came over me now and again.  
  
"Navigators Second Class. Should be in and out in twenty minutes. With special attention to criminally aggressive tendencies," he added, checking the writing on the order.  
  
"I don't see why it's so special," I said as I dried my hands, then went to work with sterilization procedures. "I hit someone in the head with a keyboard once."  
  
Lamar looked at me with slightly widened eyes, their intense blue brighter with his having been caught off guard.  
  
I ignored his unspoken question-statement. "Not here, and not that. It was an accident."  
  
He seemed partially relieved, partially unamused. "Coming from you, that's almost easy to believe." He paused as he readied the syringes. "I've heard you've got quite a strategic mind, even for a Valid. And yet, you're here."  
  
"Discipline and medicine can mix," I said matter of factly. "They wanted someone with an analytical mind as a fail-safe, so they lynched me." Then I looked at him. "I've heard you've got quite a mind of your own," I said quietly, "when it comes to genetic discrimination."  
  
Lamar's eyes narrowed at the last two words. "What do you mean?"  
  
I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one else was in the room, though it was really a paranoid gesture. "What you did for Jerome Morrow. I admire it, really. From what I've read – philosophers, mostly, some histories of so-called 'miracle events' - such sacrifices were more common years ago. When people had heart."  
  
He looked away again. "They have them now, too, just perfected."  
  
"Maybe it's our imperfections that make us beautiful." I tapped my fingers lightly on the tabletop. "I'm a Valid and yet I'm not perfect. They say my brain works at twice the normal rate, exhausts itself. Could possibly lead to nervous collapse. And you had the guts to say that imperfections like that don't matter."  
  
"You make it sound like I lead a rights movement," he said softly after a pause.  
  
"Small things do count," I insisted, knowing I'd bypassed his comfort zone entirely. They hadn't hired me for my sublety, let's say.  
  
"I'm sure they do." He was walking away from me now, setting up the testing stations. I stood there and watched him, and when he came back for the second round, he stopped with his hand on the next container and looked at me for a second. "Did I ever tell you about my son?"  
  
I smiled, leaning in closer. "No, you didn't. But I'd love to know."  
  
The next day as I walked from the main hall to the lab, the acting Director stopped me and wanted to know how it had only taken me three days to fix Lamar's morale problem.  
  
Catching the good doctor's eye where he stood watching the latest rocket take to the stars just like Jerome used to do, I smiled benignly at the acting Director and told him he'd never understand. Before he could ask me what I meant by that, I was halfway to joining Lamar, his eyes toward the heavens. I reached him, put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
Around us, the world turned orange with a blaze of engine fire. Another further step toward the stars. 


	2. What Happened After

Afterburner Fire  
  
Segment Two  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the unexpected second part of this story. It bridges the gap between Afterburner Fire and Cold Fusion, concentrating on both Dana's background and Lamar's son as well as hinting at some of the developments in Cold Fusion … you could call it a missing scene.  
  
-Later That Day-  
  
The acting Director called me into his office. I had no idea why. I wasn't going to tell him anything more than I did when he asked me questions that morning. But he didn't touch that subject when I walked in.  
  
"So Lamar asked me about the incident at the institute with the keyboard," he told me. "What should I tell him?"  
  
"Why did he ask you?" I started, then reneged. It's not exactly polite to ask someone, 'So, why did you suddenly decide to beat someone over the head with a large object?' especially after someone died in your work with the same method. "Just what I told you. The truth. I don't really like being insulted and certainly not assaulted and both happened and I defended myself."  
  
It was a longer story than I cared to tell. I had been studying at the institute in a clutch of strangely red-blooded males including some faith- births with criminally aggressive tendencies. I'd been insulted, then hit in the shoulder. I picked up the closest thing next to me – which was my station keyboard – and brought it across one's head, sending blood over his neighbor's term paper. No one ever bothered me again.  
  
But it didn't stop me here since it had nothing to do with *my* DNA. Vaguely naïve, if you ask me, but then again I didn't see anyone trying to insult me at Gattaca.  
  
"So he's been talking to you," the acting Director said again.  
  
"Yes, and I'm not going to transcribe it for you," I said, "so if that's what you're asking me, I'd like to get back to work." There were those aggressive tendencies.  
  
"I'm just saying that you're the first person to have a discussion with the good doctor since the launch for Titan." The acting Director paused. "You're free to transfer back if you'd like, now that that's over."  
  
I stared at him for a moment, then shook my head.  
  
"No, I think I'll be staying."  
  
I turned and walked out, feeling better about myself than I had in my whole life. I'd stood up for something and for once I'd actually believed in it.  
  
I walked back downstairs and into medical section, knowing I'd left Lamar in the middle of working and thus shorthanded. As I walked in, he was still trying to pick up the slack I'd left behind, and I jumped right back into the fray of sorting lab results.  
  
"What was that about?" he asked offhandedly.  
  
"Normal procedure."  
  
He glanced at me, not buying the flat statement. "Dana."  
  
"He offered me a transfer back to my old position, okay?" I said, perhaps more harshly than intended. "And I turned him down. End of story. I just…" My voice caught. "I didn't want to go back."  
  
Lamar paused. "I thought you might have."  
  
"Have gone back?" I said. "You thought I was one of those people who'd do this and then turn my back on you?"  
  
"I've been alone for a while, Dana. Being alone again would not be the biggest surprise. And re-run this set of lab results." He turned away from me, but I kept after him. "I'm not leaving."  
  
"Why didn't you?" he asked.  
  
"Because of your son," I admitted quietly.  
  
Now Lamar had stopped and was looking at me curiously as if he'd thought I'd never speak of that confidential piece of information again. "What does that have to do with anything?" he asked.  
  
"You said he wasn't all they said he'd be. Not all that the genetic engineering promised. But then, neither am I. And you don't know what he could do … and I don't know what I can do, being here. Your son's got a great chance, even though he's not perfect. He could be here in a few years."  
  
Lamar was watching me intently, and I continued. "I'm not perfect either. Chances are I'm going to collapse one of these days. But I have a chance here. I've got a social consciousness, just like you do, and this is my chance. Jerome inspired me just like he inspired your son. And you could say your son's inspired me to do better."  
  
Then I finally sighed, looking away from him, back to the lab results. "This is just something with the system. I'll check it out and I should be able to fix it."  
  
My co-worker was favoring me with a small smile. "Take your time," he said, turning back for the counter. I watched him go, then paused. "Lamar?" I said.  
  
He looked over his shoulder at me.  
  
"I hit an In-Valid in the head at institute in self-defense. He was fine after a few weeks in hospital. I only do it in self-defense," I said with a small smile.  
  
"You're not, nor have you ever been, at risk."  
  
The two of us shared a smile. Another secret just between ourselves. Perhaps we weren't too far removed from Jerome's idealism after all. Now all we needed was a large rocket and a dream to focus it on.  
  
-Continued in "Cold Fusion"- 


End file.
